


A Ghost of a Feeling

by Ispyissy



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ispyissy/pseuds/Ispyissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a tiny clip from Halt and Catch Fire. Post Amy's death.</p><p>For Petra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Ghost of a Feeling

It was one of those PDS, undead rave party things that Amy had first dragged Kieren to. After the first one, Kieren had decided to avoid any more of them. There was something weird about watching other PDS sufferers eat sheep brains and behave like high-as-kites drug addicts. But this particular party, the one Simon had talked him into so he’d have someone to turn up with, had been arranged by the Roarton ULA in her memory. Kieren couldn’t just find an excuse not to go to this one. 

So here he found himself, standing in the old ramshackle barn, watching his fellow PDS sufferers eat lumps of mushy sheep brains to remember Amy (or maybe to forget she was gone) and celebrate her. It seemed like an odd way to remember someone, Kieren thought. He felt a tingle in his fingertips. Was that the cold, or was it grief? Now that the dusty old muscle he called a heart was sporadically beginning to beat again, certain sensations were starting to come back. The nice ones, like the way Simon felt when they kissed on the sofa in his bungalow. And the not so nice ones, like the tug of the needle when he’d had to have the wounds on his wrists closed again. The morgue had done a bang up job on the cosmetics of it but they hadn’t even anticipated him leaving his coffin after he’d been put in it, let alone his flesh needing to be in full working order soon after that. That had been a shock, when his heart lurched into life a little more and blood trickled down his wrists and dripped from his fingertips. Sue had had the sense to grab a tea towel and bind his wrists until Shirley got there. 

At lot of the time, Kieren would feel something and realise he had forgotten what it as he was feeling. Cold and heat seemed to be the most alien of concepts to him now and it took a good few moments to distinguish between the two. Breathing was another thing. The idea of constantly pumping air into your chest cavity and out again had been interesting and uncomfortable to relearn. On more than one occasion, he had felt a tightness and panic in his chest and couldn’t work out why. Not until someone thought he was having some sort of anxiety attack and told him to breathe did Kieren remember that was something he actually had to do now. All these little things used to be completely subconscious. His brain was too used to not needing them. Kieren brought his hands up to his face briefly and concluded the tingle he could feel was probably the cold. 

How long had he just been standing there in the middle of the barn? Kieren wasn’t sure. People seemed to just skirt around him instead of offering him any sheep brains or trying to make small talk. IT was just like secondary school, or like after Rick had died the first time round. No one knew quite what to say to him, so no one bothered to try. Except for Simon, of course. Where was he? Kieren glanced around the barn. The flashing lights made it hard to see properly, the loud music distracted him. He took a few steps forward, turned to his left, and took a few more.

Ah. There he was. Simon was sat in the armchair someone had dumped in the barn and left to rot, looking like he wanted to sink into it and rot along with the upholstery. Something in Kieren's slowly reanimating heart gave a little jump. It was bad enough he felt like garbage after losing his BDFF. To have to watch Simon grieve as well was almost too much. He couldn't just stand by and let Simon feel like he was alone. Kieren couldn't let himself be alone, either. Not again. Not after Rick.

Trying not to let his sigh fall too heavily in his throat, Simon pushed his spine a little further into the dank foam and upholstery mess he’d found himself sat in. He wished he was able to consume proper food so he could lose his feelings somewhere in a six pack of Stella and sleep it all off for a day or two. Truth be told, he felt responsible. Amy had latched on to him from the day she joined the ULA commune and followed him back to Roarton. He regretted ever getting her involved with the ULA in the first place. They’d all been looking for somewhere to fit in after being shunned and ostracised by the living community. But the ULA was a radical group. A radical group is never a healthy place for someone as sweet and lovely as Amy.

Simon couldn’t let Kieren go the same way, especially now the doe eyed teenagers body was beginning to reboot itself. If the Undead Prophet came to Roarton and found them both… Simon chased that thought off as quickly as it ran through his mind. If he couldn’t protect Amy from one radicalised nutjob with a knife in her handbag, what hope did he have against another with an army of brainwashed PDS sufferers? If Simon had the ability to cry, he would have. Both he and Kieren had felt loss and emotional turmoil before their deaths. But before they’d lost the ability to feel physical pain, they’d found their own ways to cope with emotion physically. Which had both led to their deaths. Maybe a lack of physical pain was a good thing.

Simon tipped his head back to rest against the exposed foam of the armchair. Thank god he didn’t have a sense of smell anymore, the thing probably smelled foul. He closed his eyes to block out the garish light display coming from the front of the barn. He usually spent these events outside, gathered around a fire with the faction of the ULA he had created here in Roarton. But he couldn’t bear to face them now. Not after Amy, not after he jumped in front of a bullet to save the person who was supposed to bring about the second rising. A soft feeling, a ghost of a feeling more than anything, registered on the side of his neck. Simon opened his eyes to see Kieren hovering over him, his big eyes in their natural brown colour staring at him with concern and empathy. The boy was beautiful, he really was. Simon hadn’t been lying on the phone to the Undead Prophet, but the Prophet may have taken what he’d said to mean something else entirely. 

It took a moment for Simon to register it, but Kieren was slowly dropping his head down towards his own. With a hand still resting on the side of Simon’s neck, Kieren leaned all the way down and kissed him. Simon let his eyes drop shut again. This wasn’t like any of their other kisses. Usually their kisses were quick, perfunctory even, a small display of affection initiated by Simon asking if he could or Kieren building up a small ounce of courage to peck Simon’s lips. No this kiss was more like their first, when Kieren had stepped right up to Simon and kissed him long and hard. Here their lips moved against each other firmly as Kieren’s hand pressed against Simon’s neck, caressing him with his thumb. Kieren felt everything; the chill of Simon’s skin beneath his fingers and lips, the press of the man beneath him, the scrape of what little stubble remained on his face. For Simon, if he focussed on it enough, it was the pressure of the kiss that stood out. 

When Kieren finally pulled back, it took a few seconds for Simon to open his eyes again. If he had breath, he would have had to catch it again.


End file.
